Claim: Trump’s executive orders on Covid-19 economic relief are illegal. Fact check: Mixed

The American experiment has been sustained not by flawless execution of its founding ideals but by the moral imagination of people who refused to surrender hope. From abolitionists to suffragists to the foot soldiers of the civil-rights movement, generations have insisted that the Republic live up to its creed. Yet today that hope feels imperiled. Coarsened public discourse, the normalization of cruelty in policy, and the corrosion of democratic trust signal more than political dysfunction—they expose a crisis of meaning.

Naming that crisis is not enough. What we need, I argue, is a recovered ethic of humaneness—a civic imagination rooted in empathy, dignity, and shared responsibility. Eric Liu, through Citizens University and his "Civic Saturday" fellows and gatherings, proposes that democracy requires a "civic religion," a shared set of stories and rituals that remind us who we are and what we owe one another. I find deep resonance between that vision and what I call humane theology. That is, a belief and moral framework that insists public life cannot flourish when empathy is starved.

The American experiment has been sustained not by flawless execution of its founding ideals but by the moral imagination of people who refused to surrender hope. From abolitionists to suffragists to the foot soldiers of the civil-rights movement, generations have insisted that the Republic live up to its creed. Yet today that hope feels imperiled. Coarsened public discourse, the normalization of cruelty in policy, and the corrosion of democratic trust signal more than political dysfunction—they expose a crisis of meaning.

Naming that crisis is not enough. What we need, I argue, is a recovered ethic of humaneness—a civic imagination rooted in empathy, dignity, and shared responsibility. Eric Liu, through Citizens University and his "Civic Saturday" fellows and gatherings, proposes that democracy requires a "civic religion," a shared set of stories and rituals that remind us who we are and what we owe one another. I find deep resonance between that vision and what I call humane theology. That is, a belief and moral framework that insists public life cannot flourish when empathy is starved.